I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t expect anything. I just want you to be happy. If that happiness includes me, cool. If not, then that’s fine too. I just want you to be truly, genuinely happy.
My mom once asked me “if he wanted to come back, would you let him?”.
And I sighed and smiled, but I remained silent, because she knew the answer and I know it too damn well.
“You shouldn’t” she said. “You know how he is. He would hurt you again.”
Yes, but Mom, I knew how he was when we first kissed, I knew it all along. I knew he would hurt me, but I chose him regardless.
So maybe I shouldn’t take him back if he wanted me to, but it’s too late to think about the consequences, because I shouldn’t have taken him at all in the first place, and that’s exactly what I did.
Last night at 11:36, I received a message from you. You have no idea how my darkened world became so bright within a matter of seconds. I missed your “I love you” texts and your laughter that was contagiously amazing. God I miss your soothing voice that sent shivers down my spine. For the past two months, I’ve been writing sad poems about missing you, and finally, you found me and right away you reached out. You’ll never know how happy you make me baby. I love you.
Sempiternal.Poet on Instagram// You’re the light
I still have the guitar pick you gave to me
And even though I never use it
Because I’ve never known how to
Although you once tried to teach me
It’s still sitting between the chords
And the polished wooden neck;
And when that boy came to my place
And asked if he could play the guitar
I searched all of my drawers
For another pick to lend him
Because even though I don’t know how to play with it
And even though I should be over you
I couldn’t possibly let him
Use the one that you gave to me.
I sent you a letter today, to tell you how much I hate you and no longer regret you at all.
I had to say that, because I humiliated myself the last time I saw you, I showered you with love and tears and I’m sure it fueled your ego more than ever.
That’s why I sent you a letter today, to say I do not miss you anymore.
However, I hope no one will tell you I washed my pillow yesterday, with the washing liquid you use, so I can hold it in my arms at night and imagine that I’m holding you just by smelling it, because I still remember the scent of your jumper when you held me in your arms on that Tuesday night, and the smell of the T-shirt you lent to me on that Saturday morning.
I hope you’ll never know, because my letter would sound less convincing if you did.
A good night nurse is a precious thing and they should be held safe (and near me at all times). Hold my cold depression hand in your warm dry man-hand (mand™) and talk about how I’ve been kicking goals in my therapy and that I’m not grieving the wrong way